She Was His
by Lady Dudley
Summary: My version of Pam's turning.  Apologies for any melodrama that may have crept in
1. Don't Let The Stars Get In Your Eyes

**A/N: I was thinking that there were a lot of Pam's POV of the night she was turned, so I thought I would do one from Eric's. Mostly because it kind of bugged me why, after c.800 years, Eric decided to create a child. This is what I came up with (probably OOC and it's not strictly canon, but as this is for the show, not the books, I thought that wouldn't really matter), hope it works and that you enjoy it! :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**_She Was His  
_Eric: "Don't Let The Stars Get In Your Eyes"  
**

~*~_  
If I'm gone too long don't forget where you belong  
When the stars come out remember you are mine_

_Don't let the stars get in your eyes  
Don't let the moon break your heart  
Love blooms at night in the daylight it dies  
Don't let the stars get in your eyes  
Oh keep your heart for me for someday I'll return  
And you know you're the only one I'll ever love_  
-"Don't Let The Stars Get In Your Eyes," Dean Martin  
~*~

When he first saw her she was perfect.

Her small heart shaped face and golden ringlets added to her flawless, doll-like appearance.

He had always had an eye for beauty, and hers was extraordinary, but it was the fire that burned in her eyes, child though she was, that truly drew him to her.

He had always had a soft spot for children as well, not that he would ever admit that to anyone, least of all himself. If he had then he might have been able to explain to himself with greater ease why he found himself walking towards her.

He smiled at her and, with a flourish, produced a blood-red rose as though from thin air and handed it to her.

She smiled at him, causing her eyes to dance in childlike wonder as she accepted the rose – without even looking at her adult companion, something he had not witnessed in a child before.

She was not afraid of strangers. She was not afraid of him.

He decided that he liked that.

As he watched her walk away, swathed in furs and walking beside her companion – again detracting from the normal child behaviour in not holding her companion's hand – he found himself wondering what it would be like to have her fire, her fearlessness, for himself.

But she was so young…

Shrugging off his feelings, which were mingled with something like regret, he turned and walked away into the softly falling snow; missing the little girl pause and look back over her shoulder at him.

…

He had never thought that he would see her again, but when he did he knew it was her.

Her beauty had not diminished, but matured and softened into the graceful figure of a young lady.

She laughed now, instead of smiling, a deep, throaty chuckle that told of her lust for life and, he noticed, was frowned upon by her family. The fire was there too, crackling in her eyes, blooming on her cheeks and dancing in her smile.

Yet it was the blood-red roses that she had laced in her hair that caught his attention.

Then her eyes had found his.

She had recognised him, but was still without fear; instead her eyes had challenged him.

He found himself wondering whether she had surrounded herself with young men on purpose, to taunt him. He didn't like it, she was his.

And he knew in that moment that she always would be.

…

He found her much later in the garden.

There was no struggle; she had been waiting for him.

When it was over and he held her lifeless body in his arms he felt an odd sense of completeness.

As though he had been searching for something for the past 800 years or so and had finally found it.

He heard voices, her companions were looking for her; tightening his hold on her he carried her away.

She would never belong to them again.

She was his.


	2. Only You

**A/N: Ok, so I couldn't resist expanding it to have Pam's version as well...again, hope you like :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**_She Was His  
_Pam: "Only You"  
**

~*~  
_You took my life and made it beautiful  
So you dared to let me shine  
Even walk a step behind  
Willingly you give yourself to me  
Knowing who I was born to be  
Only you know how  
To hear me through the silence  
You reach a part of me that no one else can see  
Forever true there's only me  
And only you  
Only me and you  
_-"Only You," Sinead O'Conner  
~*~

When she had first seen him she had been too young to really appreciate him.

And she had almost resented that.

That he had treated her as both a young woman and a child through that rose trick, treated her as though she wasn't quite on his level.

It was only later that she admitted to herself that she wasn't, not yet.

But when she saw him again she would be and he would recognise her through the roses that she wore in her hair, his roses.

Her mother hadn't understood her obsession with growing the rose cutting, had insisted that the blood-red colour of the roses were not an appropriate colour for a proper young lady to wear. But she had insisted and carried her point.

She often thought that her parents were frightened by what they termed her 'wayward passions' and that she so often got her way in the small things, like the roses, because they were afraid of what more shameful things she would do if she were checked too much.

But she didn't care about their reasons; she was able to wear his roses and that was all she cared about.

…

She had known he was there the moment he entered the room; knew by the subtle shift in the air and the tingle that had run down her spine.

Then she had seen him: moving sinuously and purposefully through the crowd he had looked exactly as she remembered him. His small pause had been the only sign that he had noticed her.

She watched, feeling almost triumphant as he had changed his course slightly and regarded her.

Then their eyes had met.

A spark of fire had run through her in that moment, from the top her head to the tips of her toes and back again. There was something about this man, something powerful and dangerous, yet she felt no fear.

She felt like he could see right through her and he was the first person to like what he saw when he did. For that reason alone she let him see everything.

…

She never really knew what it was that had drawn her out into the garden that night, but she had soon known she was not alone.

He had come to her and she had not resisted.

She felt as though she had waited for this moment all her life.

Ever since that winter's night when he had given her that rose, she had wanted this and now she had it.

Now she was his.


End file.
